“You did a nice thing, Peterson.”
“Thank you.”
I pull my lips in, the corners of my mouth tightening, while my fingers glide through my hair, untangling the knots. My curls are becoming wild and untamed. I need to schedule a trim.
“I never knew you had an interest in hockey. We don’t read musty books.” He flicks the tattered cover in my lap. “Or break out into song mid-thought like those fairy-tale characters.”
I leer at him, and if I were in an old-timey cartoon, I’m relatively certain smoke would be billowing out of my ears.
“You’re right—zero interest in anything related to pucks. Delightful fairy fromA Midsummer Night’s Dreamaside. I’m here because Johnny Rodriguez gave me his best sad puppy dog eyes about the team not being able to play in the semifinals because of Mr. Applegate’s unexpected visit from the canine stork.”
“Mrs. Stephen would’ve come. She’s done it before. She actually enjoys hockey.”
Darius pulls his baseball hat up, exposing the tiniest bit of his dark brown hair at the top of his head. The man lives in a cap. In the four years I’ve been at Crossroads,I’ve only seen him without it once. Once. When that chipmunk wrangled its way in through the girl’s locker room and he used his hat to scoop it up and bring it outside. What a fucking hero.
“I think you’re curious,” he continues, his eyes lingering a little too long on my face for my comfort. “About . . . hockey. You know I play on an adult team, too. If you’re genuinely interested.”
The shit-eating grin reappears, and once again, I’m back in middle school, being taunted by the boys on the playground. Except now, the boy is wearing a full-grown human costume.
“Hockey?” I ask, quickly lowering my voice to make sure any boys awake and not plugged in don’t hear me question the reason we’re headed to The Ocean State on a rickety, out-of-commission tour bus.
“A bunch of angry men with too much testosterone banging into each other and hitting each other with sticks? Sounds positively dignified.”
Darius huffs, and his nostrils flare. He has the most perfect nose on that annoying face, and how dare he have sexy nostrils too?
“You're not interested in a bunch of dudes swinging our sticks back and forth?”
“Will you keep it down? And stop,” I whisper-shout. “There’s no need to be inappropriate.”
Darius stands, holding on to the ledge of the overhead railing.
“We’re almost at the rink. I need to move to the front of the bus.”
Before I can rise or move over, he shimmies in front ofme. The dark navy and—I’m guessing—polyester blend of his workout pants passes inches in front of my face. His bulge comes dangerously close, and I’m tempted to punch him in the dick.
“Me? Inappropriate?” he asks, standing in the aisle. “We have to share a room tonight, Peterson. I’d never think of it.”
Darius winks and walks toward the driver. His plump ass looks like two soccer balls in his damn athletic wear. And now I’m making improper sports references.
The bus veers off the highway, and a mix of excitement and nervousness blankets me as we approach the rink.
2
HARRY
As we driveinto downtown Warwick, the streets are lined with mature trees and historic brick buildings. A picturesque town square serves as the heart of the area, featuring what appears to be a centuries-old town hall with a clock tower. Marty McFly would feel right at home.
The Mighty Moose Commemorative Ice Rink takes up an entire block, and I wonder what had to be torn down to make room for it. There’s nothing mighty about it, and I’m not exactly sure what it commemorates. I’m not sure if the moose population in Rhode Island rivals ours in Maine, but maybe it’s a good sign about the game. Set? Match? I have no idea.
“Mr. Peterson, whaddya think?” Johnny asks.
With thick glasses strapped to his face by a lime-green athletic band that appears to be squeezing his poor head like a boa constrictor, Johnny peers up at me, and I remember I’m supposed to sound interested.
“The ice looks cold.”
“Good one, Mr. P.,” Victor Henson says.
Victor is almost a foot taller than Johnny, and when he wraps his arm around his shoulder, he misses it and ends up grabbing him by the neck. Based on Johnny’s reaction, he’s either used to it, doesn’t mind, or both.
